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Authors: Jacqueline Harvey

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Alice-Miranda In New York 5 (7 page)

BOOK: Alice-Miranda In New York 5
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‘Hello darling,' he answered. ‘Of course. No, I hadn't forgotten – just delayed. I am sorry. Please apologise. I'll be there in ten minutes.' He closed the diary and returned it to its plastic bag. He'd forgotten all about their meeting with the business manager to go over the accounts for the renovations.

Hugh stood up. Nanny Bedford's secrets would have to wait for now.

Felix Underwood led his class up Madison Avenue, turning left into 81st Street before weaving across the pedestrian lights to the museum.

‘Is this your first visit to the Met?' Mr Underwood asked Alice-Miranda as they climbed the stairs to the entrance.

‘Yes. I've read all about it and I can't wait to see inside. The girls are so lucky to have their lessons here every week. My school is in the middle of a village, miles from the city, so if we go to a gallery or museum it takes a whole day,' Alice-Miranda
replied.

The pair stopped at the top of the stairs and waited for the rest of the group to catch up. Alice-Miranda looked around at the array of visitors scattered across the steps: backpackers, families, well-dressed business men and women and at least three other groups of school students. People were eating and talking on their telephones and some were just lying back enjoying the sun. Of course, there were lots of people taking photographs of the museum's exterior with its Corinthian columns and enormous banners announcing the current travelling exhibition of Impressionist painters.

‘Hurry up, girls, we haven't got all day,' Felix Underwood called out to three stragglers.

The trio scooted up the steps and joined the rest of the group.

‘Sorry, sir,' they chorused.

‘Okay, you know the drill. We need to head inside and get our badges and our stools and boards. Lucinda, can you show Alice-Miranda what to do?' the teacher asked.

‘Yes, Mr Underwood.' Lucinda flashed a smile at her new friend.

‘Today we are going upstairs to the west galler
ies to continue our study of European art. You have your sketchbooks and pencils and I want you to take your time selecting a work that really appeals to you. You need to give each painting a chance so I want you to take a good look around. Don't just choose the first thing you see. And Harriet and Isabelle, don't bother about finishing early. You're not going to the Met Store, no matter how much you nag me.' Two girls who were standing beside each other with their hands in the air quickly put them back down and exchanged dirty looks.

‘We will be staying in the European area so please don't go wandering off. You have a whole hour to sketch your version of whichever artwork you select. And another thing, girls, remember that the gallery has tutors positioned near the exhibits so if you need any assistance just ask, and of course I'll be around to see how you're all going as well. Are there any questions?' Felix Underwood glanced at the group.

‘Excuse me, Mr Underwood,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘Do you want us to draw the artwork exactly as it is or how we see it?'

‘Good question, Alice-Miranda. Sorry, I forgot that you weren't here last week. I'd like you to
interpret the piece, so it doesn't need to look exactly the same,' the teacher replied.

‘Which is just as well,' Lucinda whispered to Alice-Miranda, ‘because last week I tried to draw a Renoir painting of a mother and her children and they ended up with heads like frogs.'

Alice-Miranda giggled.

‘All right then, girls, let's go. We'll meet back here at 12.45 pm.'

Lucinda and Alice-Miranda walked behind Ava and Quincy as the group followed Mr Underwood through a range of exhibits to their destination.

‘I hope I do better than last week,' said Ava. ‘I chose a still life because I thought that would be easy. I mean, how hard is it to draw a bowl of fruit?' She thumbed through her sketchbook and showed her drawing to Quincy.

‘Very?' Quincy wrinkled her nose.

‘Thanks for the encouragement.' Ava rolled her eyes.

‘It's not that bad. Well, except maybe that bit that looks like a bottom,' Quincy giggled.

‘It's meant to be a peach,' Ava protested.

Alice-Miranda was awestruck as she took in her surroundings. A large group of tourists, betrayed by
their cameras and bumbags, was moving, swarm-like, through a piazza brimming with ancient Greek statues. A grey-haired woman in a smart white pants-suit was talking loudly about the various antiquities. Her comments were greeted with many ‘oohs and ahhs' and the almost continual snapping of photographs.

‘Make the most of that now,' she said, nodding at one rotund fellow with his camera slung around his neck, ‘because there are lots of places where it will just have to go away.'

He smiled enthusiastically and clearly hadn't understood a thing she had said.

When the class reached their destination, Alice-Miranda found a suite of smaller galleries playing host to the style of paintings that adorned the walls of her home, Highton Hall. Grand Old Masters' portraits of people, some alone, some with their families, others on horseback. There were later landscapes too; a gorgeous Monet and another Turner painting of Venice with the most subtle light dancing on the water between the buildings.

Alice-Miranda and Lucinda stayed together for the first few minutes before the girls' natural curiosity split them up. The class was scattered
throughout the galleries, each student searching for her favourite work. Alice-Miranda found herself lingering in front of several paintings, trying to work out which she liked the most.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself completely drawn to a painting by Edgar Degas called
The Dance Class
. Alice-Miranda unfolded her stool, sat down in front of it and opened her sketchbook, wondering how she would capture the movement, the characters, the feeling of the dance class and all those beautiful white tutus.

Before long she was engrossed in her task and doing a much better job of it than she had expected to. Her perspective was good and she found drawing people relatively easy, although achieving just the right expressions on their faces was tricky. Her dancers seemed a little cheekier than Mr Degas's.

Behind her, a tall man with a thick head of salt-and-pepper coloured hair watched. He observed the Degas and then the small child in front of him as she carefully sketched what she saw. He was impressed with her light touch and the texture she achieved with her pencils.

She added a little dog that wasn't in the original painting. He smiled.

Alice-Miranda held her work out in front
of her.

The man spoke. ‘That's very good.'

‘Oh.' Alice-Miranda spun around. ‘Do you think so? I know I haven't got the faces quite right. That man there –' she pointed at her sketch – ‘looks quite cross, but I think in the real painting he just seems aloof. And this girl –' she pointed at a ballerina in the foreground – ‘she doesn't look serene like she does up there. Mine looks like her ballet shoes are two sizes too small.'

The man put his forefinger to his lip and nodded.

‘But I do like your dog,' he added.

‘Oh, well, Mr Underwood said that we could add our own interpretations and I rather liked the idea of a fluffy white dog among the dancers. He sort of matches their tutus, don't you think?' Alice-Miranda replied. ‘Perhaps I should put a bow around his neck.'

‘Or you could move his head a little so it looks as though he's about to dance as well,' the man suggested.

‘I hadn't thought of that. Thank you.' Alice-Miranda began to erase the dog's head and reposition it. ‘I am sorry, it was rude of me not to introduce
myself properly –' Alice-Miranda spun around and was surprised that the man had disappeared.

She stood up and searched the room but he had moved on.

Alice-Miranda checked her watch. She could hardly believe that it was already twenty to one and she wasn't nearly finished her work. Other girls from her class were beginning to stand and close their sketchbooks. She did the same, then picked up her folding stool and walked to the entrance. The galleries flowed from one to another. She caught sight of Ava in the next room and walked over to her.

‘That was an hour of torture wasn't it?' Ava pulled a face. ‘What did you draw?'

‘
The Dance Class
by Mr Degas in the next room,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘Well, come on, let me see,' Ava insisted. She put her own sketchbook down on her chair and took Alice-Miranda's from her. ‘That's neat!'

‘Do you think so?' Alice-Miranda asked. ‘It's not finished yet.'

‘It's way better than this.' Ava flicked open her own sketchbook to reveal a rather square head.

Alice-Miranda looked at the painting on the
wall, then back to Ava's interpretation.

‘You know, I think you've drawn that like Picasso would have, in his cubist phase,' the tiny child admired.

‘Except that it was painted by Renoir,' Ava observed, ‘and his people look like people and mine just look like they're related to Spongebob Squarepants.'

‘Mr Underwood said that it didn't have to be exactly the same. I think it looks great,' Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘We'd better go find Mr Underwood, hadn't we?' She turned to leave.

‘Oh goodness, that's an amazing painting.' Alice-Miranda stared at a colourful medieval canvas on the wall near the doorway.

Ava studied the myriad creatures. ‘Weird, I'd say.'

‘No, I think it's terribly clever. Can you see?' She pointed. ‘There's a bear and a lion. It's one of those pictures that I'm sure the longer you look at it, the more secrets it will share.' Alice-Miranda wished they had more time. ‘Come on, we'd better get moving.' She picked up her things and headed for the exit.

The group tripped their way back to school just in time for lunch, and were greeted at the back door by Maisy.

‘She thinks she's a sniffer dog.' Lucinda smiled as Maisy thrust her nose against the girls' skirts looking for snacks.

‘I think she's adorable.' Alice-Miranda reached down and gave her a friendly pat. ‘But going by the size of that tummy, I think she must have a very good sense of smell.'

The girls raced upstairs to deposit their books
and pencils into their lockers. Ava and Quincy had to run an errand for Mr Underwood and said that they would meet Alice-Miranda and Lucinda in the cafeteria.

Alice-Miranda and Lucinda were walking through the sixth grade corridor when Alice-Miranda spotted the girl from the bus with the pigtails and lilac bows. She was standing side on, staring into her open locker. As Alice-Miranda and Lucinda reached her, the girl closed the locker door and spun around.

‘Alethea!' Alice-Miranda exclaimed. ‘I thought you looked familiar when I saw you getting off the bus this morning. But I could only see you from behind, so I couldn't really tell.'

The taller girl stood with her mouth wide open, gaping like a giant cod.

‘Do you know each other?' Lucinda asked, looking from Alice-Miranda to the taller girl.

‘Yes,' Alice-Miranda replied.

The taller girl closed her mouth and stared at Alice-Miranda, her tanned face taking on a sickly pallor.

‘I don't know you,' she finally said in a thick southern twang. She threw her pigtails over her
shoulders one at a time.

‘Of course you do. You're Alethea Goldsworthy. We were at school together at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale and then you left at the end of my first term. You were the head prefect.'

‘No I wasn't.' Alethea shook her head.

A smaller girl who was standing behind Alethea stepped forward. She had just deposited an armful of books into the next locker.

‘Her name's Thea Mackenzie,' the child offered. ‘She's from Alabama.'

‘Oh.' Alice-Miranda was surprised to hear it. She could have sworn that the girl in front of her was Alethea Goldsworthy, except for the accent. ‘I'm sorry,' Alice-Miranda apologised. ‘But you look exactly like a girl I know.'

‘No, you definitely don't know me.' The girl narrowed her eyes.

‘Then I should introduce myself. My name's Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.' Alice-Miranda held out her hand to the taller girl. She took it and squeezed so hard that Alice-Miranda felt her knuckles grind together.

The tiny child recoiled. ‘Ow.'

‘Sorry, don't know my own strength sometimes,'
Thea grinned. ‘Must be all that fried chicken my mama likes to feed me.'

There was an awkward silence.

‘I'm Gretchen,' the smaller girl beside Thea spoke.

‘It's nice to meet you, Gretchen.' Alice-Miranda held out her hand which, to her relief, Gretchen shook gently.

‘This is Lucinda Finkelstein.' Alice-Miranda motioned towards her new friend.

Lucinda smiled.

‘Eww, gross,' Thea grimaced.

‘What . . . what's the matter?' Lucinda had no idea what was wrong but right at that moment she wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

‘Are you friends?' Thea asked.

‘Well, we've only just met today but I'm sure that we're going to be good friends,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘I don't think I'd trust her to be my friend,' said Thea to Lucinda, while glaring at Alice-Miranda, ‘because you've got something really gross stuck in your braces and your good friend here hasn't even bothered to tell you. Gretchen would be unfriended
immediately if she let me walk around with something that disgusting stuck in my teeth. But then again, I don't have a mouth full of metal to contend with, you poor thing. That must be so uncomfortable. Ugly too,' said Thea sweetly.

Lucinda spun around and looked at Alice-Miranda. ‘Do I really have something stuck in there?' She smiled as widely as she could.

‘Well, there's a tiny bit of, I think it's a strawberry seed, maybe, but you can hardly see it,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘Hardly see it. You're kidding, aren't you?' Thea screwed up her face. ‘I'd be getting myself to the bathroom quick smart.'

Lucinda's face had gone from pink to fire-engine red. ‘I'll be back in a minute,' she said and dashed away.

‘Gretchen, why don't you go with her and make sure that it's all gone?' Thea suggested.

Gretchen nodded and scurried off after Lucinda. As soon as both girls were out of sight, Thea leaned in and with outstretched arms shoved Alice-Miranda's shoulders against her locker.

‘Ow!' Alice-Miranda protested. ‘What did you do that for, Thea?'

‘What are you doing here?' Thea's twang disap
peared completely, replaced by clipped vowels.

‘Sorry?' Alice-Miranda frowned.

‘Why are you here? You ruined my life. It was all your fault I had to leave that school and move – to another country!' Alethea stamped her foot. ‘So why are you here?'

‘Oh, Alethea, I knew it was you!' Alice-Miranda slipped out of the bigger girl's grasp. ‘I know people say that we all have someone who looks just like us out there in the world– you've only got to see Mrs Oliver and Aunty Gee to know that's true – but I thought I must have been going mad. You were simply too good a twin not to be you. But why are you called Thea Mackenzie? I suppose Thea is just a short version of Alethea. But Mackenzie? I don't understand.'

‘You don't need to understand anything, you little brat. You don't know what it's like to be me,' Alethea hissed.

‘Of course I don't,' Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘That would be impossible – to know what it's like to be anyone other than myself.' Alice-Miranda stopped for a moment. ‘I thought when you left Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale that you went to Sainsbury Palace School.'

Alethea's whole body tensed. ‘I did, but then I
had to move again and it's all your fault.'

‘I can understand if you were cross about the boat race at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale but I'm sure that you didn't have to leave. You should have talked to Miss Grimm. You could have worked something out. She's really a wonderful person – she was just heartbroken and sad when you were there, that's all. And I really don't see how I could have had anything to do with you leaving Sainsbury Palace. I've never even been there for a visit,' Alice-Miranda explained.

‘As soon as I met you my life started to fall apart. The last thing I need is you coming here and ruining everything –
again
.' Her blue eyes filled with tears. ‘I've made friends here and people like me. And no one knows anything . . . about Daddy,' Alethea whispered.

Alice-Miranda began to understand. Of course, Alethea's father had recently been in quite a bit of trouble at home. She remembered her father saying something about his being charged with tax evasion and fraud and there was a huge criminal court case going on.

‘It's all right, Alethea. I'm glad that you've made friends and that you're enjoying yourself. I won't tell anyone your real name if that's what you want.'
Alice-Miranda looked up at the older girl.

‘You'd better not, or you're dead.' Alethea grabbed Alice-Miranda's wrists and twisted as hard as she could.

Alice-Miranda tried to pull away. ‘Ow, Alethea, that hurts. Please let go. I promise I won't tell anyone who you are. I'm only here for a month until Highton's reopens and then I'm going home to Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale.'

‘You'd better not be lying to me – or else,' Alethea threatened. ‘So, what's my name?'

‘Thea Mackenzie,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘And where am I from?' she demanded.

‘Alabama,' Alice-Miranda confirmed.

Alethea finally let go of Alice-Miranda's arms, leaving blotchy red marks.

‘You'd better rub that,' Alethea warned. ‘Don't want anyone thinking you've hurt yourself now, do you?'

Lucinda and Gretchen reappeared.

Alethea smiled at Lucinda. ‘Everything okay?'

‘Yes,' Lucinda frowned.

‘Well, you'd better go to lunch, girls. Don't want to miss it, do you?' Alethea flashed a toothy grin.

‘Of course not,' Alice-Miranda replied. ‘Goodbye
Thea, goodbye Gretchen. It was lovely to meet you.'

‘That was weird,' Lucinda said as the pair scurried along the hallway towards the stairs.

‘What do you mean?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Thea made it sound as though I had half a strawberry mashed into my braces but you were right, it was hardly anything – and then she sent Gretchen along to check that it was all gone. I almost felt like she was trying to get rid of me. Either that or she's just very caring,' Lucinda observed.

‘Yes,' Alice-Miranda was lost in her own thoughts. ‘That must be it.'

Alethea had always been tricky at WinchesterfieldDownsfordvale and as much as Alice-Miranda was a firm believer in second chances, she had a feeling that her time at Mrs Kimmel's was about to become a whole lot more interesting than she had first thought.

BOOK: Alice-Miranda In New York 5
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